


to Forgive and Forget

by empty_junkyard_gargoyle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Apologies, Friendship, Redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-24
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27173746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empty_junkyard_gargoyle/pseuds/empty_junkyard_gargoyle
Summary: After an enlightening talk with an old love and the Lady of the Lake, Merlin decides it's time to make his own destiny.
Relationships: Freya & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Mordred (Merlin)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	to Forgive and Forget

**Author's Note:**

> I just busted this out in no-time flat (well, okay, maybe it took a few hours). It was going to be a fic where Morgana got de-aged and was raised better, but...it turned into a completely different fic. I hope y'all like this one (I still plan on doing de-aged Morgana).

He sits on a fallen tree hanging over the edge of the lake, his breeches pushed as far up his calves as possible and his bare feet in the water. His blue eyes stare out over the world before him, taking in the crystalline waters, the thick forests surrounding those same waters on all sides, and snow-capped mountain peaks in the distance.

It’s simply…

_“Beautiful,”_ Merlin says aloud, his voice low.

“It is, isn’t it?” a girl - 16, maybe 17, years of age - agrees with him. She sits next to him, her blue dress pulled up to her knees, her own bare feet in the water, and her long brown hair hanging down her back. 

She has a small, content smile on her face, “Thank you for laying me to rest here, Merlin. I couldn’t have asked for a better home.”

“If we had left sooner, we could’ve lived here together,” his words are barely above a whisper, his shoulders sagging.

She looks at him, at the man her first love has become.

And it _hurts._

When she met Merlin, spent those few days with him, she had seen a boy with a song in his heart and a smile that shined brighter than the sun. He was happy, and sweet, but...he was also sad. 

He, like her, was just looking for a place to _belong,_ someone to _love_ him, someone to _relate_ to him. Like her, he was all alone, had nobody to lean on, and he was _scared_ \- of living in Camelot, of his magic, of being himself, of the destiny thrust upon him. 

And now, several years later, he’s grown up, he’s a man now, but all she sees is that boy. Except...he’s not the same boy who kissed her and yearned to run away with her.

Several years later, seven _long_ years in fact, it seems that the world is on his shoulders and it’s _crushing_ him. His smile is gone, faded into oblivion, and he has the eyes of a man who’s lived too long and seen too much. He holds himself at arms-length, closed off from those around him, and he’s _drowning._

And it _breaks_ her heart.

“Maybe in another life, another time,” he sighs.

“Maybe…” She kicks at the water a bit, not knowing what to say. She may be the all powerful Lady of the Lake now, but she’s still only a girl who died much too soon. What could she even hope to say?

She glances at him, then back to the water that gives her life. “Wanna see something I’ve been working on?” she asks him, wanting to cheer him up.

“Sure.”

She shifts, straightening her back, and reaches out a hand, holding it above the water. Her dark eyes focus and her fingers shift, almost as though they’re gliding over the strings of a harp.

The water shifts, moving and rising, as she pulls enough to fill a water jug from the lake. It swirls above the lake’s surface and with more of those delicate movements, the water transforms - it takes the shape of a creature - of a unicorn with the tail of a fish or an eel.

“It’s beautiful,” there’s a smile on his face and he reaches out. “What is it?”

The creature dances closer to him, it's tail slithering back and forth like a snake, and it nudges his fingers. It’s not much bigger than his hand. 

“It’s called a hippocampus, though I’m not really sure why such a weird name. I heard some bards singing about them,” she tells him, watching him run a finger over it’s back and it practically melts with the gentle touch. “Have you been working on anything?”

“Not really, been too busy trying to keep that prat alive,” he moves his hand away from the hippocampus, then glances at the girl. “Well...that’s not entirely true.”

He turns his hand palm-up and with a flash of gold, a ball of sparkling golden dust appears in the air just above his skin. His fingers twitch, not as graceful of movements as Freya, but he manages to shape the ball into a creature of his own - a dragon.

The dragon uncurls and raises it’s head, glancing around slowly. It spreads it’s wings and gives a few fluttering beats before rising.

The girl watches as the dragon spins above his hand, it’s smaller than her water creature. “I love the way it sparkles!”

That brightens his smile, but only a bit, and he guides his dragon towards her water unicorn and the two creatures circle one another. “I’ve been working on this type of magic for nearly a year now, but I can only ever seem to make dragons.”

She giggles as the dragon headbutts the hippocampus and the unicorn retaliates by spitting water in the dragon’s face - then they start chasing each other. The warlock chuckles.

“So, what have you been up to these past few months?” she asks, resting her head on his shoulder.

He sighs and his hand rests against his knee, but he doesn’t release the spell he cast. “Well, things were alright for awhile, then Morgana showed up again nearly two months ago. She kidnapped some of the knights and made them look for this thing called a Diamair - it’s a creature that - ”

“Carries the gift of all knowledge, right?”

“You’ve heard of it?”

She gives a short nod. “This lake may be secluded but word still gets around. Morgana didn’t find it though, right?”

“Right,” he nods once. “Arthur and I went in search of the knights and we found them, though, we were first captured by slave traders thanks to my idiocy.”

“No. Really?”

“Really. But it’s okay, we managed to escape...” he trails a moment, chewing on his lip, then shakes his head, “We rescued the knights and all her other prisoners, but…”

She shifts, glancing up at him, “But?”

“You remember I once told you about a Druid boy named Mordred?”

She nods again, “You saved him from being executed and then later on you tried to kill him,” she notices the guilty flinch at those last words, “Why do you ask?”

His fingers twitch briefly. “Yeah, well, he was one of the slave traders, and _now_ he’s one of Arthur’s knights because he stabbed Morgana in the back.”

From the way he says this, she can tell that he’s not too happy about the boy’s new career - and she thinks she knows why. “You’re worried that he’s going to fulfill the prophecy and kill Arthur, aren’t you?”

“He will, I’ve seen it,” he says this with certainly, his voice even. “I just wish he’d hurry up and try because it’s been almost two months. He should’ve tried something already.” He frowns, glaring at the water, “Why isn’t he trying to kill Arthur?”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to.”

“What?” he stares at her, “Of course he wants to! The prophecy -”

She sits back up, staring back at him with stern eyes, “Doesn’t mean _jack shit_ if you don’t want it to,” his startled face at her vulgar language would be funny if this wasn’t such a serious topic. “Has he done anything suspicious?”

“He became a knight.” She raises a brow at that and he frowns more. “He...well…”

Has Mordred actually _done_ anything? 

He _did_ rescue Arthur from Morgana, but, he _also_ left Merlin to die in that cave. _And_ he’s been getting pretty chummy with the other knights. _And_ he keeps staring at Merlin like he wants something, though, the warlock isn’t sure what the boy might want.

“He hasn’t done anything, has he?” 

“Well, no, at least not yet. But he _will,_ the prophecy - ”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Merlin, what have I told you about prophecies and destinies?”

He blinks and glances away, chewing on his lip. “They’re stupid?”

“And?”

“And we make our own?”

“That’s right. And I think if you continue believing in that stupid prophecy, then it’s going to come true. If the boy hasn’t done anything to warrant suspicion, then you need to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“But, Freya, he - ”

Her dark eyes narrow on him and she says something that she knows is going to hurt him, “If you don’t get your head out of your ass and stop being such a _judgmental prick_ before the boy’s even done anything wrong, then he's going to turn into another Morgana.”

And there it is.

He flinches at her harsh words and looks away like a kicked puppy. The guilt rolls off of him in waves.

But it needed to be said. 

“I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I mean every word,” she rests her free hand on his leg, her other is still playing with the water spell. “I know you, Merlin, you get so _wrapped up_ in that stupid _destiny_ of your’s that you shut the world out - you shut your friends out, you get paranoid of everyone around you, and you don’t think straight.

“You did the same with Morgana and look what happened - she turned evil and is hellbent on revenge.”

“So…” he tries to swallow the lump in his throat, “What do I do?”

“Accept him,” she sees him startle at the words, fear crossing his eyes as he looks at her. “I was a monster, I killed countless people, and you accepted me as I am. You need to do the same with him.”

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but no words come out.

She moves her hand to his face, resting her palm against a sharp cheekbone - he’s grown into such a handsome young man. “I know you’re scared, you don’t want to lose Arthur, but you _will_ if you don’t stop believing in that stupid destiny and start trusting in those around you.”

“But, Freya, I - ”

“No buts, Merlin. It’s high time you started making your own destiny instead of letting others tell you what to do.”

“Aren’t you telling me what to do, right now?”

She smiles, “I am, but this is advice from a friend, one who only wants the best for you.”

He sighs and gives her a half-hearted smile. “All right, I’ll take your advice and I’ll try to trust Mordred.”

“Good,” she says and turns back to where the two spells are still dancing around each other - how have they managed to keep the spells going for so long without breaking concentration? “Maybe you should tell him about the prophecy.”

“What? But, Freya -”

“Maybe if he found out, he’ll understand why you’re...well…” she glances over him and gives a short wave, motioning to his entire being.

"Being a judgmental prick?" he suggests.

The girl nods. "Yes, that. Unless…” she trails off, searching his blue eyes.

He swallows, “Unless?”

“Unless maybe you’re trying to spare him from the hardships you’ve faced in knowing your destiny? _Maybe,_ you think by telling him, he’ll end up living a life of fear and loneliness like you do?”

“I don’t - ”

“You do, I can see it plain as day, Merlin. You’re not the same kind, happy boy I fell in love with. You’re not _you_ anymore.”

He sighs, looking at the water. “I know, but...I don’t know what to do. I’m just so…” he waves his free hand, trying to convey what he feels.

She already knows what he’s trying to say. “I know. Would you like some more advice from a friend?”

“Yes. Please?”

“Open up to someone you trust, someone who _isn’t_ a water spirit that you thought about running away with one time,” she tells him. “Maybe one of your friends? Who’s the one with the great hair?”

“Gwaine?”

“Yes, him! Open up to him. At least a bit. Or maybe even the Druid boy?”

His eyes slide over to their spells, watching them, chewing on his lip in thought. After a long moment, he gives a nod, a simple short movement of the head. “All right, I’ll try.”

She smiles and rests her head against his shoulder again - he has some very nice shoulders these days. “But later.”

“Later then,” he smiles too and rests his head against her’s, content to sit here in peace for a while.

* * *

Merlin looks up at the sky as he enters the main square. It’s late, the sun has fallen and the moon has started to rise - he spent the whole afternoon with Freya. But it’s not too late. Maybe he could go talk to Mordred? He did promise he’d try to accept him and trust him. But...what about telling him his destiny? Could he do that?

His heart twinges with guilt, guilt that he shouldn’t even have yet.

She was right. _Again._

He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but he can’t deny the truth.

He _is_ afraid that if he tells Mordred, then the boy will grow up to be just like him - lonely and scared and afraid of failing. 

If he had never been told about this stupid destiny then maybe life would be better. Maybe Morgana wouldn’t have turned evil. Maybe he wouldn’t see the worst in everyone around him. Maybe he’d actually be able to smile and feel happy for once.

“Aw, fuck it,” he grumbles to himself.

He’ll just see what happens when he talks to the boy.

But first, he has to find him. That shouldn’t be too difficult.

_Mordred?_ he calls out telepathically. It’s been a long time since they last spoke through their minds, he’s not even sure he can still connect.

_Emrys?_ the boy’s voice is velvet soft, and confused, as their magics connect and interlock. 

_Where are you?_ there’s no backing out now, Mordred responded so the warlock needs to push forward - his heart pounds in his chest.

_In my room,_ he says cautiously, _why?_

_Because we need to talk._ He moves then, jogging into the castle and towards the wing where only the most privileged knights live.

Mordred, on the other end of the line, is confused and trying to ask questions. He doesn’t get any answers yet, not until the warlock is knocking at his door. “Emrys, what’s going on?” he asks, opening the door. “What do we need to talk about?”

He glances down the hall, first right then left, then looks back at the young knight. “Can I come in?” He’s quickly granted access to the boy’s chambers.

There really is no backing out now, he thinks to himself when the door closes quietly. 

“Mordred, I’m sorry,” he says, turning to face the boy - though, he’s not really a boy now, not anymore. He’s grown up quite a bit, gained some muscle. “I’ve been a dick to you.”

“Yeah...yeah you have. Why?”

“I…” what exactly is he supposed to say? Damn, he should’ve rehearsed a speech or something. “I’m not really sure...um…” he really doesn’t want to tell him, but it’s kind of important and it’s the whole reason he’s standing here now.

That, and Freya would drown him if he went back on his promise.

The young knight steps closer, “What is it, Emrys?” His pale blue eyes bore into the warlock’s, giving no emotion away.

All right, he’s just going to say it.

He takes a quick breath and lets it out. “There’s a prophecy that you’re going to kill Arthur.”

The boy blinks once, twice, a few times, as the information processes in his brain. Then he opens his mouth to say something, and closes it again. “You think that…” his knees wobble.

In a split second, with a flash of gold, a chair is pulled from the nearby table and moved to catch the boy when his legs give out on him.

The boy is quiet, his eyes unfocussed, trying to wrap his mind around the words. 

And Merlin gives him the time, finds his own chair and tries to get comfortable. His own mind is frantic, worried about what’ll happen - will Mordred be okay with knowing? Is it a mistake in telling him? Could he forgive Merlin for being a complete and utter ass? Can Merlin help him avoid his destiny? Would he still end up killing Arthur?

There’s so many questions, _too many questions,_ that need answers.

The pale blue eyes turn to him, pain and worry and confusion. “Are you...are you _sure_?”

“I don’t want to be, but yes,” and that’s the truth. He really doesn’t want to believe in the prophecy. “A few sources have told me - well, one source told me, and the other was a vision in a crystal.”

“But...why?”

“The Gods are bitches.” That’s the truth too. If Merlin didn’t have this stupid destiny shoved down his throat for so long, he would’ve had a better life - at least, he hopes so.

“The Gods are…?”

“Yeah, they’re the ones that created these stupid destinies and prophecies - at least, that’s what I believe. And they’re bitches for it. So’s that dragon,” that last part is added as an afterthought because seriously, if it weren’t for that cranky old _lizard,_ he wouldn’t be in this mess either.

“Dragon?”

The warlock nods once. “Yeah, he’s the one who kept trying to convince me to kill you. Which was the reason why I…well...that one time...you know?”

Mordred frowns at the memory, then schools his face into a careful mask. “You tripped me and almost got me killed by the knights,” his tone is almost accusatory - _almost._

“Yes, that’s why,” he bites his lip a moment, then continues, holding the boy’s eyes with his own, “and I was afraid. I let fear get the best of me and almost got an innocent child killed. I thought killing you would keep Arthur safe, but it’s wrong - I’m wrong - to think that.”

“So you regret it then?”

Does he regret it? That’s like asking if the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. “ _Absolutely._ Every day of my life since that day. There isn’t a moment that goes by that I don’t regret my choices and hate myself for what I’ve done.”

“I swore that I would never forgive you, or forget.”

At this, he lowers his head. He knows, he remembers those words ringing over their telepathic link. “I know. And I don’t expect you to. What I tried to do is unforgivable and I don’t think there’s any possible way that I could ever make up for my mistakes.”

Silence hangs in the air after he says that - thick, stifling, _tense_ silence that not even Excalibur could slice through.

"Will you try?"

"Yes, I'll do _anything_ I can to try to make it up to you."

Mordred inhales deeply, his eyes on the warlock, then he exhales. "All right."

He glances up, startled, "All right?"

"Yes, all right," he repeats. "I'll try to forgive you if you teach me magic and let me help you protect King Arthur."

A trill of fear flickers in his chest at that last part but he shoves it aside - Merlin is tired of being afraid. "I can do that," he says. "Honestly, I do need help in protecting his royal ass - he's always running off into danger."

"So I've seen, and you run right after him."

"What can I say, I'm an idiot," he chuckles.

"No you're not."

"Mordred, I let a giant lizard convince me to kill an innocent child. I am an idiot."

The boy hums. "Yeah, that was idiotic of you," he agrees then smiles. "But I wasn't exactly innocent. I _did_ join a bunch of cutthroats and conspired to kill Uther."

Merlin tries not to smile at that but loses quickly. "Yeah, well, if there's one man who deserved to be killed, it was that bastard." He leans back casually, in the chair, "In fact, I actually beat you to it."

"What?"

The warlock nods slowly. Accidentally causing Uther's death shouldn't be something to be proud of - he was Arthur's father for gods' sake - but he is, he really is proud of the fact. "I meant to heal him, for Arthur's sake, but he was wearing a cursed necklace that made any healing spells backfire. It wasn't the best way for a king to go, but honestly, I'm glad he suffered at least a bit. Uther Pendragon was a homicidal maniac."

The boy stares at the elder man for a long time, then slowly nods, agreeing. His glances away briefly and in a quiet voice, "Is that why Lady Morgana is insane?" He hears a sharp inhale.

"A bit, I mean, he was her father."

"What? _Seriously?_ "

"Seriously." He sighs, his shoulders sagging slightly. "But, it was my fault too. She needed me and I wasn't there for her. If I had told her about my magic, maybe I could've helped her. Maybe she wouldn't have turned out the way she did."

"Did you try to kill her too?" He gets only a nod at that, and sees an ocean of regret and guilt in the warlock's eyes. "Maybe you can try to make it up to her too?"

"I wish I could, but...it might be too late."

Mordred shifts in his chair, leaning forward a bit. "It's never too late, Emrys. You're both still alive and that means there's a chance, even a small one."

The warlock glances at him with a half-hearted smile. “Maybe you’re right. I could try, I think. But I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“I could help...if you want?”

“I’d like that, Mordred.”

They share a small smile and Merlin thinks that maybe, just maybe, the two of them could be friends.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all liked this little one shot. I know I liked writing it. (Man, html takes forever to add, ugh)
> 
> Btw, to all who are still waiting for the extra scenes for Poetry of the Sweetest Kind, I apologize. I have no excuse for not writing more chapters. But know that I am trying, I'm trying as hard as I can, it's just...not working out. I'm gonna keep trying though so please, be patient.


End file.
